On The Desk
by wackyjacqs
Summary: The first time they met, it had been across a Briefing Room table. Barbed comments had been exchanged and the challenge of an arm wrestle thrown down. Brown eyes smoldered as blue eyes twinkled brightly. A magnetic force pulling them together.


**Author's Note: This was written in response to the prompt 'On The Desk'.**

* * *

The first time they met, it had been across a Briefing Room table. Barbed comments had been exchanged and the challenge of an arm wrestle thrown down. Brown eyes smoldered as blue eyes twinkled brightly. A magnetic force pulling them together.

* * *

Science. Rational explanations and reliable applications. Its systematic structure gave Sam strength; allowed her to solve a problem. Except this one. She had no solution for her father's cancer, only tears. Her head rested on folded arms as she cried. Moments passed; a gentle hand rested on the back of her neck. It was the first time he had found her crying at her lab bench.

* * *

Love is patient. Love is kind. It's also crazy and stupid. An emotion clearly misunderstood. She drew nonsensical patterns along the tabletop with her index finger, pausing only briefly as the seat opposite became occupied. A glass of blue Jell-O was placed in front of her. She looked up. Patience, kindness, crazy, was reflected back at her. It was overwhelming. For the first time, across a table in the commissary, she understood. _Love._

* * *

Daniel's lab bench remained untouched. A cold cup of coffee lay hidden among the discarded sheets of paper. His presence felt, yet missed, by his teammates. His death had been the cause of their first full-scale argument; as Sam stared unforgiving, the colonel slammed his fist onto the surface. "Dammit, Daniel," he whispered.

* * *

The snap of the lid caused Sam's heart to jump. Everything she did – and possibly didn't – hold dear rested on that little black box. The question had left her lips before she could stop it. Silence. Then the box was slid across the desk. "I wouldn't be here."

* * *

After two slices of pizza, she'd had enough. She sat down on the edge of the coffee table and also called time on the beer. The temperature in the cabin had started to fall and she watched the General work around the fireplace. Heat and light from the fire started to fill the small den in moments. He sat beside her, pulled her close. It was the first time since the death of her father that she felt something other than emptiness inside. It could have been minutes or hours that passed. It could have been her, or him, that made the first move, but there, on that coffee table and free from alien influence or alternate realities, they shared their first kiss.

* * *

It started as a joke, but after eight years, there was much more than just ego resting on the arm wrestle. Sam had the upper hand – literally – until tactics came into play. She never stood a chance. He teased victoriously before he disappeared from the room. When he returned, a rematch was called for, but denied. Instead, Jack placed a small box on the worktop. "Marry me," he said.

* * *

Their honeymoon saw them return to the cabin. Free from distractions and free from regulations. They planned to fish and then go for a walk, but once inside Jack had other ideas. He embraced his wife from behind as she set down a bag of groceries. Kisses were dotted along her neck. Turning, she leaned against the kitchen table. They never made it to the bedroom.

* * *

She knew it was bad when he refused to look her in the eye. Instead, he chose to set the manila folder on the large mahogany desk and turn it towards her. Her orders were to go and command Atlantis. Leave him behind. A hand reached out and captured hers fully. Guilt. Resigned understanding. Love, was the conversation.

* * *

Sam studied the framed photo in her hand. Running her fingers reverently over the image, she traced the outline of the smiling face. Jack. _Her Jack._ She missed him already. Looking around her new quarters, her attention fell to the bedside unit. She placed the frame on its surface; safe in the knowledge that it would be the first and last thing she would see every day until she could return home to him.


End file.
